


Broken Pieces

by Daylight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x03, Angst, Drama, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight/pseuds/Daylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby had only been back home a week when Castiel turned up asking where Dean was. Of course, just because Bobby knew where Dean was didn't mean he was going to tell the angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Pieces

Bobby stared up into the open cupboard and cursed.

The coffee mugs were on the second shelf.

Of course, the coffee mugs were on the second shelf. They'd always been there ever since he'd moved into the place. He could still clearly recall unpacking them all those years ago his wife quietly directing him on where everything should go: glasses on the first shelf, mugs on the second, junk they rarely used at the top. He'd had no problem with the set up at the time, but then he'd never imagined that thirty years and many demons later his wife would be dead and he'd be stuck in a wheelchair unable to reach a mug for his blasted cup of coffee.

He could have asked Ellen to fetch it for him, but he'd finally succeeded in chasing her away the day before. She and Jo had appeared mysteriously the day he was due to be released from hospital. Those dumb Winchester boys obviously couldn't keep their mouths shut. He tried telling the women he didn't need their help, but Ellen took charge and it's rather hard to say no when someone can just come up behind you and push you the way they want you to go. Jo didn't say much, just stood back with an awkward smile on her face and pity in her eyes.

After a sullen trip, they'd arrived at his home only to find Rufus standing in front of a newly constructed ramp leading up to the front door. Damn Winchesters. At least, Rufus knew how to treat a man with respect. He didn't say a word, merely nodded once at Bobby and left. The Harvelle women were much harder to get rid of. A lot like that occupational therapist who had visited him in the hospital. She'd show him a glossy catalogue with everything from grab bars to wheelchair lifts to commodes and tried to explain how he could still lead a virtually normal life. What the lady didn't realize was it had been a long time since Bobby had led a life that was anywhere near normal. Apparently, she was used to angry patients though and insisted on going over everything despite all the insults he threw at her.

The past week had been tortuous. Jo spilt her time between reading Bobby's books and restlessly exploring the junkyard. She avoided him for the most part and acted nervous whenever he saw her as if she was afraid she'd do the wrong thing. Ellen was the opposite, refusing to leave Bobby alone. She cajoled him out of bed every morning and insisted on cooking his meals and buying groceries. She even tried to reorganize his collections of stuff so he could manoeuvre more easily through the house. That is until he threatened bodily harm if she laid a single finger on any of his precious books. Having piles of books everywhere might make it difficult to get around, but it was a system he had perfected for years. Besides at this point, having most of his books at ground level was actually very convenient.

Either his wilful stubbornness in refusing every offer of help or Jo's restlessness must have become too much because the women finally left promising to check in on him after their next hunt. He was not looking forward to it even if it would help his mug problem.

Glancing up at the glasses, Bobby had to shrug off the temptation to skip the coffee and go straight to the whisky. Instead, he grabbed an old broom handle. The thing had recently become his trusty tool for reaching things that were now annoyingly too far away. Its blue paint was faded and chipped and one end had been sharpened to a point. It wasn't perfect. He really needed something that could actually grasp things, but it was what he had, so it would have to do. Aiming carefully, he slid it through the handle of a gray mug and slowly lifted.

The mug was inches from his fingers when it slipped off and loudly shattered into pieces on the floor.

"Damn it!"

"Bobby."

Jerking in his chair, the old hunter grabbed his wheels attempting to quickly spin around to face the intruder. Unfortunately in his haste, all he managed to do was ram his wheelchair into the table behind him. He cursed, but by then his brain had caught up with him and he recognized the voice, so he settled for a quick visual check instead.

Castiel stood right behind him looking the same as always, dishevelled suit and blank face.

That whisky was looking more tempting by the moment.

"I don't suppose you've come to tell me you've got your mojo back and are here to fix me?" Bobby asked not bothering to make another attempt to face the angel. Apparently, manners were not something they taught in heaven.

"I'm afraid not," replied Castiel.

"Didn't think so," said Bobby shoulders slumping even as he pretended not to care. "What do you want?"

Castiel walked in a graceful semi-circle until he was finally standing in front of Bobby. "I'm looking for Dean."

"Well, he's not here."

"I know. I was hoping you might tell me where he is."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. He did in fact know exactly where Dean was. For once, the brothers were actually checking in on a regular basis, and though he knew they were really just trying to check up on him, he had not intention of discouraging it. Of course, just because he knew where Dean was didn't mean he was going to tell the angel.

"Uh, huh," said Bobby still staring at Castiel. "Top of the fridge."

Cas glanced over at the appliance and gave a small frown. "Dean's on top of…"

The old hunter rolled his eyes. "No, you idjit. The dustpan. Fetch it down for me and clean up this mess, would you." He gestured to the broken mug on the floor.

Castiel's forehead remained furrowed, but he fetched the old dustpan and brush and kneeling down, swept up the bits of porcelain. It seemed a bit perverse having an all powerful angel of the lord doing chores for him, but at the same time Bobby found it satisfying to see the celestial being knocked down a peg or two, though admittedly, Castiel wasn't exactly all powerful anymore.

Bobby observed him carefully. All he really knew about this angel were various sketchy details from Dean and despite the fact Cas had rescued Dean and Sam on a few occasions, he didn't seem much less of an idiot than the rest of the apocalypse bent heavenly host. The angel seemed far from human, remaining distant and near emotionless. His eons spent following heaven's orders had obviously left him set in his ways and with little experience in making his own decisions. It had certainly taken him long enough to choose a side. The fact Castiel had finally helped the Winchesters was the only reason Bobby hadn't demanded the angel leave the moment he appeared.

Cas stood with the pan full of broken mug looking slightly lost.

"The garbage is under the sink. And you can leave the dustpan down there while you're at it."

The angel obeyed. "About Dean…" he began as he straightened up.

"Coffee first," interrupted Bobby. "Grab me a mug."

Cas handed him a white mug which said 'World's Biggest Bastard' on the side in big red letters, an old gift from Dean. Bobby narrowed his eyes again, but there was no hint of humour in the angel's face.

"Put the rest of the mugs down on the lower shelf while I pour myself some."

It was Castiel's turn to narrow his eyes, but he pushed aside the glasses on the first shelf and began placing the mugs beside them as Bobby poured the coffee and was finally able to take his first glorious sip.

"I believe you're trying to divert my intention," said Castiel.

"Maybe," Bobby said leaning back hand wrapped around his coffee as he watched the angel work. "Why are you looking for Dean anyway?"

"I need his help."

"God hunt not going so well?"

"I have a lead," said Castiel setting the last of the mugs on the bottom shelf.

Bobby took another long drink of his coffee. "And you need Dean for…?"

"It requires navigating certain aspects of the human world I'm not familiar with. The task will also be much easier with two." Cas hesitated a moment. "And I have no one else to ask."

"So Dean should just drop everything and help you on your little quest?" The hunter dumped his mug on the kitchen table letting it hit loudly against the wood surface. "You didn't seem very interested in helping him in his plans to defeat Lucifer."

"Dean insists on a futile course of action," Cas said with a tone of irritation. "It is not possible to defeat Lucifer without God's help."

"You'd be surprised by what that kid can do when he sets his mind to it."

Castiel glanced away to the side. "He does often seem to manage the impossible."

Bobby snorted. "Then maybe you should have listened to his ideas before blaming the boys for everything your lot started."

Castiel's eyes turned back to the hunter. There was very little change in the angel's features only a tightening of the jaw, but Bobby could suddenly feel the whole wrath of heaven directed at him through Castiel's eyes. "They're not 'my lot' anymore. Besides you yourself don't appear to be doing anything to help Dean."

Bobby didn't so much as flinch from the angel's gaze. Instead, he wheeled right up to the angel and matched his furious stare with one of his own. Common sense only just stopped him from grabbing the trench coat and trying to pull Cas down to his level. "In case you've forgotten, I'm stuck in this fucking chair!"

"And that's preventing you from aiding them? I did not know all your wisdom lay in your legs."

"You don't understand! I'm not good for anything but demon bait like this," Bobby yelled. "The frigging apocalypse is on us and all I can do is answer questions over the phone!"

Breathing heavily, Bobby spun away from the angel and rolled towards the front door roughly yanking it open. He only went as far as the porch stopping and staring out over the stacks of rusting cars that covered the salvage yard. It was a gray, cloudy day, but the air was fresh and light from a recent rain. He breathed it in deeply suddenly realizing this was the first time he'd been out of the house since he'd gotten out of the hospital. Only his years as a hunter let him hear the near silent footsteps of Castiel as he came out to stand beside him.

"I used to be able to fend off any nasty creature I came across," Bobby began not bothering to look over at the angel. "I used to be able to save people with my own two hands. I used to be able to run out the door at a moment's notice and pull those boys out of whatever ridiculous danger they got themselves into." His knuckles turned white as he clutched tightly to the wheels of his chair. "They're the only family I have and I'm trapped here."

There was a moment of silence in which Bobby convinced himself the sting in his eyes was from the cool fall breeze. Then the angel began to speak in his horse monotone his gaze also turned towards the world in front of them.

"I used to be able to fight off hordes of hell spawn with little effort. I used to be able to call upon heaven to do my merest thought. I used to be able to travel through time, erase memories, heal the injured…"

"Yeah, well, try being human," Bobby muttered but the bite was out of his voice.

"I used to have a family, a home," Cas added in a whisper.

'And I lost everything...' The words echoed through Bobby's head. He'd been too busy dealing with other issues at the time, but now as he gazed over at the angel, he was taken back by the look in Castiel' blue eyes. Maybe he had to re-evaluate his opinion of the angel, because the expression on his face was much too human. It was a heartbreaking expression he'd occasionally seen on Dean, a look of broken despair as if he was just trying to make it through each day without falling apart. The angel's damn deranged quest for God was probably the only thing holding him together. A familiar protective urge surged up in him, but he tried to shake it off. What he really didn't need right now was another foundling to worry over.

"Hey, Feathers. Mind doing me a favour?"

Castiel titled his head towards him. The broken look was thankfully gone replaced by one of curiosity.

"Would you mind keeping an eye on the boys for me? Keep them out of trouble. Both Dean and Sam."

"I'll do my best." Cas' nose wrinkled. "However, I've noticed they have an uncanny ability to find trouble no matter what anyone does."

"You got that right. Just help them out and try not to let them do anything too stupid."

"I will. I promise."

Bobby stared narrowly into the angel's eyes for a minute before he nodded and said, "Dean's in Weatherly, Pennsylvania, the Windmill Motel, room 8."

"Thank you."

Bobby's eyebrows rose. It seemed as if the angel was finally beginning to learn a few manners. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

Castiel remained a moment observing the hunter with an irritatingly calm expression, before saying, "Have you considered you may not be quite as trapped as you think you are?"

Face scrunching up, Bobby opened his mouth to demand what he meant by that, but with a fluttering and a slight breeze, the angel was gone. Blasted birdbrain. So much for manners. Obviously being cut off from heaven didn't stop Castiel from trying to remain annoyingly enigmatic.

Bobby sighed. He didn't like it, but maybe, just maybe, Cas had a point. He gazed out at the piles of broken metal. Even if he couldn't get himself out of the damn chair, the least he could do was get out of the house. It was well past time he started converting one of his trucks for hands only driving. Designs already forming in his head, he wheeled down the ramp and sailed off into the salvage yard.


End file.
